


They Met Under Stars

by the_pen_of_gabriel



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pen_of_gabriel/pseuds/the_pen_of_gabriel
Summary: Thirty years before the events of Rogue One, Chirrut Imwe is nothing more than a thorn in Baze Malbus' side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I, like so many others, recently saw Rogue One and was absolutely drawn in by every character. I also believe these boys to be married, and this story is a projection of their own version of love at first sight. Enjoy.

“You told me you’d stop doing that.”  
“You love it. Why would I?”  
Baze Malbus stared at his husband for a long time, shaking his head. How had he become the most lucky man in the galaxy? He would never have predicted this thirty years ago. In fact, he had considered himself cursed when he first met Chirrut Imwe. Once Baze’s husband was a small, overexcited, reckless and blind guardian of a temple, desperate to follow the Force wherever it took him. He still was, but he was like that back then too, Baze noted. They crossed paths three separate times before Baze admitted the passionate man was of any interest to him at all.

The first time they met was an accident. Born blind, Chirrut was naturally very good at maneuvering a large crowd. He knew, therefore, how to weave about the marketplace in Jedha City. The rumble of the people was almost overwhelming, each shopper buzzing with rumors from both on and off planet. He could smell the foul stench of the desert locals, never quite having enough water to keep clean. His sanctuary was the sweet smell of freshly sliced jybbuk fruit. It was on his way to purchase his favorite, now-in-stock treat that a stranger of considerable weight and height, quite suddenly, slammed into him with full force.  
“Watch where you’re going!” was shouted at the young temple guardian from not too far off, meaning the obstacle of a person had fallen and subsequently not kept walking. What a hurry this person must have been in to have knocked two grown people on their butts in the middle of a marketplace. The shock from actually colliding with someone almost made Chirrut miss the opportunity to laugh at the other person. Almost.  
“Will do,” chuckled the blind man. He heard a rustle, a slight grunt, and more distinct shuffling. The other person was getting up. There was then a sharp click. A gun, powerful and not discrete, otherwise it would have been quieter.  
“What’s so funny, monk?” The voice belonged to a very stern man, Chirrut wagered. Probably a real serious sort. And yet, the Force felt smooth around him.  
“You do not care, but I am blind. I cannot watch where I am going. That does not, however, change the fact that you ran into me, and not the other way around.”  
A slight change of tone. Agitation. “I can actually see where I’m going, Temple Pest. Maybe the marketplace isn’t quite for you.”  
“Nor for you. That gun, ready to shoot the first person who poses a threat. Don’t you think the authorities will have an objection to such heavy firepower?” Chirrut teased.  
Suddenly Chirrut was pushed against a stone wall. His head slammed back and he felt only a large hand against his chest. The cool rim of a gun placed itself against his head. The monk simply smiled.  
“How did you know I had a gun?” The figure growled.  
“I am blind, not deaf. But if it’s such an important topic, you may want to reconsider holding me here. People may get the wrong idea, such a strong man with a loaded gun going after a tiny, innocent local monk.”  
“You know as well as I do that no one here gives a damn about anyone else. Quit fooling around. How the hell do you know what I’m carrying?”  
Chirrut tried to struggle away from the hand, but this man was far more powerful than he was. The gun stayed where it had been. “I am a monk. We learn silly tricks in our temple. Force tricks.”  
“You’re a Jedi?”  
“If I was a Jedi, would there still be a gun to my head? No. I only heard the gun click and, using my supernatural ability of context clues, figured out what you had in your hand. I’m blind. I use my other senses to keep me alive on this moon.”  
“They’re about to be the reason you’re dead.”  
“Why is it so important that I don’t know things about you? Are you a criminal, or carrying stolen goods?”  
Impeccable timing. The muffled communications of a stormtrooper creeped nearer and nearer towards the two men. The other person released Chirrut. “Gotta go.”  
“Criminal, then?”  
“How about I do you a favor and keep you in the dark?” and before Chirrut Imwe could make another blind joke, the man was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Time

The second time was far more passive, by Baze’s standards. Baze Malbus set up a stake out to find a man who had been stealing from him. The sky was dark and twittering with stars. Waiting restlessly outside his home, he saw a flicker of motion in the distance. An intruder? He didn’t care to question it, merely cocked his gun and fired at the figure. It dropped, presumably wounded. Malbus considered if moving would compromise the stake out, but realized sooner that shooting something would probably deter any other criminal activity. He then ventured forth to investigate his victim.  
“You again?”  
Lying on the ground was the little monk who had almost gotten him caught by Imperial stormtroopers a few weeks ago. He had a blaster wound in his leg. Baze briefly felt sorry he was the cause of the bleeding, but remembered that this temple child had stolen from him.  
“You shot me,” was all the man could let out.  
“You are stealing from me.” Baze could not believe the monk’s audacity.  
A dangerous look crossed the blind man’s face. “Stealing?” he echoed, “you think I’m stealing?”  
Baze, for once in his life, felt unsure. He had fired into the night without considering the motive of the disturbance, only the possibility of malintent. “Yes.”  
“I was trying to get back to the temple. I felt led by the Force-” Baze interrupted with a scoff, “-And strayed too far. I cannot figure out where I am. Now I have no way of getting there, at least not without damaging my leg permanently.”  
Guilt crashed over the mercenary like a sandstorm. He shot a peaceful monk who had simply gotten lost. This feeling, as before, left him soon, as he remembered he was a trained assassin, and did not care about this sarcastic, less-than-helpless Force believer. Still, however, he resigned to take the monk home. Something about this man felt… safe. Warm, even. Maybe Baze just liked the inquisitive gaze the other man always held. Or his face in general. That could be it.  
Without the patience to be gentle, Baze lifted him off the ground.  
“What are you doing?” the man wondered.  
“Returning to sender. I don’t want you, but I don’t want you dead.”  
“How heartwarming. I’m touched. Literally. Did you notice you shot my leg? I don’t appreciate -” the monk continued on with or without an audience.  
Baze regretted his actions immediately. How incredulously annoying could his ramblings get? Still, his jokes were amusing. As they headed towards the temple, Baze caught himself staring at the temple boy’s face, noticing how dirty yet poised he was, his endlessly blue eyes seeing nothing but starlight. His eyes seemed to tell a story, one of a young boy who turned to the Force when he had lost everything. So similar they seemed in that moment, two young men just trying to survive life on this Force-forsaken moon.  
The silent thinking ceased when he realized his companion had stopped rambling. He was still staring blankly at the sky, but somehow felt like he had turned all his attention to Baze.  
“You have not responded to a single thing I’ve said.” the monk mused.  
“Maybe none of it was worth responding to?” the larger man offered.  
There was a long pause. The cold desert night swirled around them, covering and protecting them. The stars filled the empty sky, lighting Baze’s way to the Kyber temple. Finally, the monk broke the silence.  
“Would you describe the stars?”  
Baze was taken aback. Describe the stars? He wasn’t even sure he had enough words for that. But feeling the small man’s inquisitive nature bubble inspired him. So he began: “The sky is an uncontrollable blackness. I imagine it’s what you see now. That darkness. Every so often there is a stone, a burning heat that festers up. It grows and fades,” through this he took the monk’s hand, making motions to emphasize the shape and power of the stars, “And will at some point explode. But for now it is beautiful, sending light and warmth into our hearts, standing unbroken against the sea of emptiness. The strongest stars have hearts of kyber, you know.” Baze finished by placing the other man’s hand on his chest. Suddenly aware he was touching the other’s chest, Baze whisked his hand away.  
“I like how you describe things.”  
Baze, realizing that was the most he had ever spoken before, could only smile.  
“My name is Chirrut Imwe.”  
Without hesitation followed, “Baze Malbus.”  
The entrance to the temple was suddenly upon them, and the monk looked happier to be in familiar surroundings. He rubbed the temple wall, a habit, Baze guessed, and found the door as swiftly as Baze’s eyes had.  
“Your leg will heal.”  
“I imagine it will.”  
Baze took that as an invitation to go, and turned to leave.  
“Wait.” Baze paused. “Thank you for bringing me here, Baze Malbus.” A smile flew across Chirrut Imwe’s face.  
Baze didn’t know how to respond. He had shot the man, and he was thanking him? Incredible. What a peculiar little mystic. He continued on his way home. “You’re welcome, I guess.”  
“One more thing, Baze Malbus.”  
He stopped. “Yes?”  
“May the Force be with you.”  
Baze could only roll his eyes and return to his home alone, swallowed in thoughts about this bewildering man and his entrancing, sightless eyes. His trance was cut off when he arrived home and found someone had stolen from him. He swore, to the stars and their empty promises, to kick Chirrut Imwe’s ass the next time he saw him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Third Time

The third time they met, they were lonely. Chirrut Imwe felt oppressed by the quiet walls of the temple. His leg had healed months ago, but the temple’s protectors refused to let their youngest guardian out again. The argument was as it had always been: How could a blind man defend himself against the threats that plagued Jedha City? Chirrut had always resented that dispute. He believed the Force would lead him to his fate. He didn’t think the blaster shot was a mistake. He knew it was part of his destiny. That’s why, when the temple was silent and empty, Chirrut felt safe sneaking out of the confining stone walls that had held him prisoner for moons. Weapon in hand, Chirrut ventured to cross the desert.  
Baze on the other hand was exhausted. His off-world bounty job had left him well off but completely tired. He had thought little about the strange temple boy he encountered not that long ago, and had not, to his chagrin, caught the thief. Nothing had been stolen while he was gone, however. Baze was just about to drift to sleep when a loud crash was heard outside his isolated home. Gun ready, Baze stepped out of his door.  
“You have poorly decorated the outside of your home with very inconvenient boxes.”  
“And here I thought I’d seen the last of you.”  
“I have good news. I haven’t seen any of you.”  
Baze sighed inwardly, put his gun away, and helped Chirrut Imwe up. He paused and reflected on how his heart seemed quicker now in the presence of this man. Sure, he hadn’t seen a friendly face in a while. But this was different. Something about him made Baze feel like a young boy, innocent and free. “What are you doing he- Hey! That’s my staff.”  
In the blind monk’s hand was the only thing that had been stolen from him in months. A strong, sturdy weapon that this clueless swindler was using, quite poorly he might add, as a guide stick.  
“I figured you wouldn’t need it, given that you prefer to shoot things.” The man snipped. He clutched the staff close and used it to pull himself up.  
Baze looked at him with wonder and slight amusement. “I suppose you’re right. You can keep the staff, so long as you don’t steal anything else, crook.”  
Chirrut let out a sigh of relief. How shockingly unexpected for this brash, lawless fiend to show kindness and, dare he say it, friendship.  
“I still need to know why you are here,” continued Baze.  
Something resembling a blush crossed the smaller man’s face. The man with a mouth full of words seemed to be unable to find them. “I, uh…”  
“Your leg healed nicely.” Baze butted in, sympathy preventing him from watching this man struggle for so long.  
“We are well trained in our temple. We don’t really expect those kinds of greetings but know how to treat them on the rare occassion.”  
“Right.”  
“You see we take a mixture of crushed leaves and water and mix it until it becomes a paste and, if you’ve properly cleaned it in the first place, it heals wounds faster and keeps them clean for-”  
Baze interrupted by firmly taking Imwe’s head in his hands and, abandoning rational thought, pressed his lips against those of the smaller man. Chirrut was silenced. For a moment Baze was worried he had overstepped his boundaries, but then the fiery monk pressed back against him. They stood there, the two men wordlessly connected. It was a considerable time after they broke the kiss off before one of them decided to speak.  
“You didn’t let me explain the healing process.”  
“I wasn’t quite interested in that, Chirrut Imwe. Why did you come here?”  
“Would you laugh if I said that was why I came here?”  
Baze didn’t understand. He had seen this man twice before, and each time ended with the overwhelming urge to hit him upside the head. Trouble seemed to flow from him like a waterfall which Baze had twice now gotten swept under. Why did his answer feel both empty and full?  
“The Force. It led me to your house the night you shot me.”  
“The Force didn’t lead you anywhere, Imwe. The Force isn’t protecting anyone.”  
“You’re wrong. It is. It is leading me to my destiny, I am sure of it. What other reason would there be for us to have met so many times?”  
“Well, for starters, two of those times you’ve been trying to steal from me.”  
“I was never here to rob you.”  
“And the other we were in a marketplace. Completely random coincidence.”  
“I do not think so. Furthermore, why would you kiss me?”  
Baze paused. Why did he? “I don’t know, I-”  
“You are drawn to me, Force or no Force. What business does a trained assassin have daydreaming about a kyber temple guardian?”  
“First of all I don’t daydr-”  
“Baze Malbus, I think the Force has led me to you.”  
Chirrut Imwe was the most peculiar man Baze had ever met. So strong and certain in his faith in the Force that he’d risk, time and time again, his life to follow its path. Baze would have had no problem killing the blind troublemaker he had bumped into that day in the marketplace. Anyone else, and he’d have left his gunshot victim to rot in a sand pit outside of town. Hell, he wouldn’t even help anyone up after tripping outside his house, and certainly wouldn’t forgive them for stealing from him. Baze was hard-headed, mean, selfish, faithless and he was absolutely enraptured by this tiny, Force-following lunatic.  
“I think you know I’m right.” Chirrut remarked, and Baze knew he was.  
“I don’t believe in the Force. It’s an old, dying faith. I stick to common sense and instinct to guide me.”  
“We are not the same person, I can agree to that much.”  
“But something about you interests me. Maybe, just maybe, I’d like to know what that is.” Baze finished.  
Chirrut knew, in that moment, that a window of opportunities had opened up. He didn’t know where the Force would take him, but he had a strong feeling that no matter where he went, what he did, who he fought, Baze Malbus would be at his side.

“You do love it, don’t you?” Chirrut questioned his husband, nudging him out of his silent reflection. Baze simply nodded, face pressed against his shoulder as they sat together in the corner of a bustling marketplace. Thirty years had passed since Baze mindlessly collided into a young man who had changed his life for the better. They weren’t young anymore, they had seen their fair share of battles, experienced equal pains of lost. They had fought, conquered, mourned, and loved together, never missing a moment of each other’s lives. He ran his hand over his husband’s before kissing his cheek and standing up.  
“Get back to running that game. Money isn’t going to make itself.” Baze commanded, putting up a disgruntled air he used around others who weren’t the love of his life.  
Baze soon realized how much more Chirrut could still impact his life when suddenly the sightless man attracted the attention of a young, lost looking woman through the same, silly methods he had used when they first met.  
“How did you know I was wearing a necklace?” The woman’s curiosity felt all too familiar to Baze, remembering that day he had wondered the same thing about his gun.  
“For that answer, you must pay.” What a hustler. What an amazing man. But he knew, when the woman was snatched away by an urgent and anxious man, that Chirrut was blazing with the call of the Force, and their intertwined story had not even remotely begun to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! My random idea of how these lovable space warriors came to be. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
